


Diversion

by devil_on_your_shoulder27384



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:15:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29417751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devil_on_your_shoulder27384/pseuds/devil_on_your_shoulder27384
Summary: Brian reflects.Set the summer after season 3.
Relationships: Brian Kinney/Justin Taylor (Queer as Folk)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	Diversion

He’d expected to be angrier at the firing, Brian thinks. At having all his years of working and strategizing and climbing the corporate ladder get shot to shit in an instant. And he _had_ been angry- for a while. For that first night, after Vance and Stockwell left and he could feel Justin walking on eggshells around him, silently concerned but wise enough not to try and console him, not then. And he’d been angry later too, the deeper he got into the Riekert shit. And then Stockwell had lost, and it was like a high he’d never had before, a mix of relief and happiness and utter fucking captivation in the way Justin was looking at him, like he was seconds away from throwing propriety out the window and begging to be fucked in the middle of the street.

Brian didn’t fuck him in the street that night, but he fucked him in the elevator, and against the loft door, and on the kitchen counter, and on the floor where the couch used to be, and on the bed. They had woken up with bruises and bitemarks the next day, throats raw from screaming, and Justin had given him a life-affirming blowjob and then fucked his brains out, and Brian could barely remember his name after that, let alone the anger. Since then it’s been that much more distant, and most days he can’t even find it in himself to bother with it anymore.

This is what Brian’s thinking about tonight, as he makes out with Justin in the middle of the Babylon dancefloor. Justin’s growing his hair out; it makes Brian’s stomach flip in a way he resolutely does not explore when he looks at him. He has his hands tangled in it now, his mouth fused with Justin’s. Justin tastes like beer and cigarettes, and his skin is silky on Brian’s, his bare arms looped around Brian’s waist.

So he’s not all that angry right now; despite everything, at this moment he’s not sure what he has to be angry about. Instead he lets his hands slip down Justin’s body. He settles them on his slender hips, which are moving against him to the pounding beat of the music. They’re floating in the lights, bodies pressed up against each other. They took some of Brian’s dwindling supply of E tonight, and it’s making the air shiver with life, every sound and touch a tiny orgasm in the packed club.

Justin throws his head back to shake off some of the glitter, laughing. Gorgeous. He’s not really Brian’s normal type, but that’s the thing about Justin, Brian thinks. He’s everyone’s fantasy.

And I get to have him, he thinks a second later, pushing the thought away before it can grab him too hard. But it’s true; he has Justin, beautiful, brilliant Justin, with his sunny smile and his decadent body, the only one of him there is. 

Brian kisses him again, harder this time, lifting him up off the ground just for a moment. Justin smiles knowingly at him when he gestures off the dancefloor, and follows him, their hands linked, to the newly unlocked backroom door. 

They wind up in one of the more public parts of the labyrinth of rooms, in a niche in the wall. There are eyes on them from all directions; everyone knows about Brian Kinney and the blond kid who’s the only one he’ll kiss. Distantly, Brian thinks that he’s not nearly as worried about that as he’d expected.

Justin groans, loudly, when he pushes in. He’s putting on a show, Brian thinks. For me or for them. Or both.

And he doesn’t really care which it is; why should he, when he’s burying himself over and over again in this perfect plump ass. It’s almost too good, and Brian can’t help but show off a little himself, jackhammering Justin until his head lolls back onto Brian’s shoulder and he’s moaning uncontrollably. They keep it going for close to fifteen minutes, urging each other on, kissing hungrily the whole time. Brian hears every onlooker who hasn’t already come shoot their loads when Justin orgasms, nearly shouting, jerking his big beautiful cock in tandem with Brian’s thrusts.

After, they stagger out, giggling madly and kissing, wrapped around each other. They walk home holding hands.

They get back to the loft a little while later. They make out in the elevator the whole way up, and once they’re inside Justin starts tugging at his clothes, staring ravenously at his body when he’s naked.

They wind up in a dirty tangled embrace against the dining room table. Brian pushes him back onto the table so his legs are off the edge, and Justin spreads lazily out over the smooth glass surface, looking up at him with soft amusement. Brian looks at him and for one or two seconds he’s taken back to months ago, a fantasy fuck on this table with a disappointing trick. He has the real Justin here now, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever have enough.

Brian eats him out first. For any normal trick, he uses rimming as a tool to rile them up, a pleasantly filthy item of foreplay to make the guy understand exactly who they’re dealing with. But when he rims Justin, it’s Brian who goes crazy; he can’t stop himself from gobbling up the rich musky taste of him while Justin squirms and whines so prettily under his ministrations.

Justin’s cursing at him now, as Brian flicks his tongue in a practiced movement that makes Justin’s legs twitch sharply on his shoulders. He gives it a few more long indulgent licks and stands up. Justin looks unbelievable, pink-faced, flushed past his neck, with a light sheen of sweat all over his body. Brian ducks down for a taste before standing up again.

“Inside me,” Justin gasps, “now,” and ten seconds later they’re joined once again, Brian fucking him in short hard thrusts. Each one forces a new little moan from Justin, and Brian leans over to lick them from his mouth. Justin’s making gorgeous noises, thrashing under him, but Brian knows he can do better, so he holds Justin’s hips to the table with both hands and uses the new leverage to throw all his weight into each thrust.

Justin’s eyes roll back in his head, his toes curling on Brian’s shoulders. He hisses a curse and reaches down to stroke at his straining dick. Brian grins.

It doesn’t take long for Justin to come, snarling animal noises up at Brian among his pleas for more. Brian holds off his own orgasm for a little longer than he really needs to; it’s just far too tempting to watch Justin shiver and squeak, desperate and oversensitive while Brian keeps pounding him.

Then they’re slumped on the table together, Justin playing lethargically with his hair, kissing the top of his head. It’s uncomfortable as hell but Brian stays there a moment longer anyway, breathing in sweat and sex and Justin.

They take a long, indulgent shower afterwards. They kiss, smiling on each other’s mouths, and let their soap-slick bodies slip together. 

Brian doesn’t know why he says it, not then. He’s just so happy, a strange lightness in his chest, the urge to laugh for no reason, and he’s not in control the way he usually is, the way he forces himself to be. So, without really thinking about it, he kisses Justin’s cheek and murmurs, “I’m sorry I didn’t go with you to Vermont.”

Justin looks at him, frowning and smiling at the same time. “That’s ancient history, Brian, you know that. We’re through it, okay?”

Brian nods and kisses him softly. “I just-” he says. “I just wish I’d taken you somewhere while I still had the money to do it.”

Now Justin’s staring at him with that unrelenting adoration again. “You’ve taken me everywhere,” he murmurs. 

Brian has more to say, he thinks, but then Justin’s kissing him, for real this time, deep, devouring kisses, and there’s no room for thinking any more.

It’s not until they’re in bed later that night that Justin turns and looks at him and says, “You know, we could take a vacation if we wanted to. No vacation time shit for you, Deb’ll let me take a week off, I’m sure-”

He’s already building up steam, so Brian cuts him off with a kiss. “With what money, Sunshine?” he says. “And don’t say your _Rage_ profits, you can’t go blowing that on shit like this.”

Justin just smiles and kisses him. “I wasn’t going to,” he says, amusement dancing in his eyes. “What I mean is- what if we just closed the door for a week, told everyone not to bother us? We can watch all those ancient movies you like, get shitfaced at three in the afternoon, have all the sex we want....”

He drifts off, already looking a little dreamy.

“Sounds like a pretty lame vacation,” Brian says. Justin just smiles at him and kisses the tip of his nose. “So, you in?” he says.

“Fine,” Brian says, rolling his lips in and staring at Justin’s beautiful face. Justin grins, and it’s that smile, the one that even Brian can’t resist. Then they’re kissing, playful dirty kisses in the middle of the bed in the middle of the empty apartment, their plans apparently settled.

* * *

Two days later, Brian wakes up at one in the afternoon on a big pillow under the loft windows. Justin is curled up on his chest, his hair catching the sunlight filtering through the curtains. He lifts his head and smiles when Brian yawns.

“Morning,” Brian murmurs. He stretches; everything hurts, hours and hours and hours of bone-crunching fucking taking their toll.

“Nope,” Justin says, kissing his cheek. “Afternoon.”

“Oh,” Brian says. He considers that for a moment, then gets distracted by Justin’s mouth and pulls him down for a nice long kiss. 

“You were so fucking hot last night,” Justin breathes, settling down against him. Brian strokes his hair and smiles. “Yeah?” he says. Last night they’d lost their minds a little, drunk on each other, and he’d tied Justin to the bed and made him come six times before he blacked out. At well past midnight they’d woken and moved together again, stumbling to the kitchen for water and soft kisses against the countertop and then over to here, where they are now. Justin had fucked him gently but determinedly in the pool of moonlight under the window, and Brian had been just high enough on sleepy afterglow to let himself really enjoy it.

“Yeah,” Justin says, smiling at him like it’s an inside joke. Maybe it is, Brian thinks.

Brian rolls him over so they’re on their sides. “What do you want to do today?” Justin says.

Brian shrugs, almost immediately pulled off track by the shape of Justin’s slim muscular torso, hidden strength in every curve of him. He traces the muscles of Justin’s arms, kisses his shoulder. “Dunno,” he says, rolling Justin onto his back and kissing down his sternum, down to his stomach, along that tantalizing trail of hair under his navel.

“Same here,” Justin says, voice catching when Brian takes him into his mouth. He threads his hands into Brian’s hair, and everything is good.

“I know what we should do,” Justin says, a few hours later, as they’re sprawled happily on the pillow again, sharing their second joint. 

Brian takes a moment to answer, caught up in tracing the soft curves and ridges of Justin’s smooth pale chest. “Yeah?” he says, finally.

“We,” Justin says, sitting up, “should play strip poker.”

Brian laughs, and laughs. He doesn’t know why it’s so funny for a moment, and then he remembers- “We’re _naked_ , Sunshine,” he wheezes. “Not sure if there’s anything to strip.”

Justin grins and rolls on top of him. “So we get dressed,” he says, undeterred smiling his gorgeous mocking-and-adoring smile. “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

Justin’s definition of “dressed,” it turns out, includes both shirts _and_ underwear, to Brian’s dismay. But Justin is twining softly around him as they slowly pull on clothes, kissing his neck lightly, so he doesn’t really mind.

It transpires, rapidly, that Justin can’t really play poker. “That’s cheating,” he says, pulling his shirt off and tossing it on top of the inside-out hoodie he’d already removed. He’s almost pouting. Brian is very, very tempted to throw out the cards and jump him right now.

“It’s not _cheating_ ,” he says, gathering up the pile of condoms - no chips to be found in the loft, so they’ve improvised - from the floor, again unable to stop his laughter bubbling up. Brian can’t remember the last time he’s laughed so much. “That’s how you play poker.”

“But you _lied_ ,” Justin says, his eyes big. He’s putting it on, now, Brian can tell, trying to get him to let him win out of pity.

No such luck, Sunshine, Brian thinks, and grins.

Several rounds later, Justin’s run out of clothes to take off, but he’s had the brilliant idea to take a shot each time he loses. The result, for Brian, is a flushed, lazy, laughing, naked Justin less than three feet from him. It’s having an effect on his game, to say the least.

“I win!” Justin crows, beaming across at him and scooping the condoms between them into the growing pile at his side. He sits back, propping himself on his elbows. “Pay up, gorgeous,” he purrs, waggling his eyebrows, and Brian laughs and obeys. He tries to make it good, pulling the waistband of his boxer briefs slowly down, drawing it out. Justin’s eyes are like saucers on him. His tongue pokes out and slides obscenely between his lips.

Justin crawls across to him and situates himself in Brian’s lap. “You’re _hot_ ,” he breathes, pushing his face into Brian’s neck. “Not sure this is in the rules,” Brian says, trying not to smile.

“ _Fuck_ the rules,” Justin mumbles, biting at his jaw, and, well, Brian doesn’t really care about the game anyway and he’s so fucking drunk and stoned and horny, and his lap is full of wriggling warm glowing Justin. He kisses Justin, sloppy, because neither of them is especially coordinated right now, and leans back against the I-beam behind him. Justin is beautiful, wanton and greedy, so he wastes no time slipping two fingers into him and working him quickly open. Justin moans, his mouth open and hot on Brian’s neck. 

“Do you-” Brian says. His brain feels fuzzy, muffled by his overwhelming need for this boy. My Sunshine, he thinks. He kisses the side of Justin’s head. “Do you have a condom?” he says, finally.

Justin starts giggling, madly, and then Brian remembers and he’s laughing too. They kiss through the laughter, rubbing up against each other as Brian reaches out and grabs one of the hundred or so condoms scattered on the floor from their game.

Justin sinks onto him easily, opening slippery and hot around him. Brian stares at him, awestruck and weed-dumb and so goddamn turned on it feels like he’s going to catch fire, or maybe just melt into the floor, any second now.

Justin starts to move on him, rolling his hips in this really fantastic corkscrew motion, and there’s no more room for Brian to inspect his feelings here because it’s just too fucking good. “Christ, Sunshine,” he breathes, the words falling out of him. “You’re sensational, you know that?”

“Learned from the best,” Justin says, with a smirk, and then they’re kissing, and even words aren’t necessary any more.


End file.
